In Every Stitch
by looneylizzie
Summary: Weasley jumpers are far more than just a jumper. They're full of little bits of love that you weave into every stitch. They're a shield, protecting the most precious pieces of your heart.
**EDIT 05/25/2016:** **Since I first posted this story on HPFF almost a year ago, it won FIRST place in a challenge, was nominated and runner-up in the 2015 sitewide Dobby Awards in TWO categories - Best One-Shot and Best Wielding of a Major Canon Character - and WON Best Gryffindor in the 2016 Golden Paw Awards!
To anyone who has ever read, reviewed, favorited, nominated and voted for this story - THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. I never would've imagined that a story of mine could've done so well, and it's things like this that continue to inspire me to write.**

 **Disclaimer:** **I am not JK Rowling and I own nothing you recognize.**

* * *

A Weasley jumper might be a lot of things, but it is certainly not void of love.

Your children may moan and complain about the colors you picked for them or the size being too large or too small, or the type of yarn, and how hot and itchy and uncomfortable it is, but it doesn't matter to you.

Those jumpers are far more than just a jumper. They're full of little bits of love that you weave into every stitch. They're how you wrap your children up in a hug from a distance. They're the way you keep your children safe from the terrifying world, because you've seen too much of it and can't stand it getting to them.

They're a shield, protecting the most precious pieces of your heart.

As you stare at the knitting needles and yarn in front of you, brow furrowed in concentration, you try to think of how to start.

The emerald yarn had been an obvious choice, as it matched his eyes perfectly. Although you doubted that he'd care that much, after all, he was an 11 year old boy.

When Ron had written to you and mentioned that Harry wasn't expecting any Christmas presents, you were outraged. You strongly believe that no child should go without presents on Christmas, and even though you barely knew the boy, you had to make sure he had something to unwrap on Christmas morning.

The "mothering" side of you wouldn't allow you to slack on this one.

 _"After all,"_ you'd thought, _"if you were dead, how would you feel if your only son was being deprived of something so special?"_

Tears instantly welled up in your eyes at the thought. You had been blessed with six sons, and you couldn't stand the thought of even one being left out of the celebrations.

If the roles were reversed, and you couldn't be there for your children, what would you want more than anything?

 _For someone to be there and to love them just as much as you did._

You reach out and pick up one of the needles, and begin to carefully loop the soft yarn around the hard, cold metal. It doesn't take long before your fingers settle into the comfortable rhythm that you are so familiar with.

You hum quietly, enjoying the soft sounds of the crackling fire, the rhythmic creaking of the rocking chair you recline in, the whistling of the cold November wind, and the occasional click of your bright red knitting needles.

The cat curls up at your feet, and you wiggle your frozen toes underneath her belly, grateful for the extra warmth.

Time ceases to exist as you work. With every stitch you think of all the reasons you're thankful for Harry.

 _"For befriending my son."_

 _"For being a force of good in this world."_

 _"For ending the war. Even if you didn't know it."_

But there are only so many reasons why you're thankful for him. Especially since you had only met him once, and only learned little bits and pieces of his story from Ron.

Then you remember what impressed you to make the jumper in the first place.

 _"Because you deserve a happy Christmas."_

 _"Because your mother wants you to know how much she loved you."_

 _"Because your father wants you to know how much more you deserved."_

You're unaware of the tears that have started to fall on their own accord. More and more reasons why you're doing this just keep washing over you.

 _"Because I can."_

 _"Because I want to."_

 _"Because you need someone to be there and to let you know they love you just as much as your parents did."_

The familiar feeling of your heart being too big for your body overwhelms you, just as it does every time you think of your children.

 _"Because I have room in my heart for one more child."_

When you finish the final stitch, you tie up the loose ends of the yarn and hold up the completed project. You look it over, and once it's deemed satisfactory, you fold it carefully and place it on a side table next to the other jumpers, all lined up in a row.

You smile as you examine the line, heart swelling with pride.

Eight jumpers. Eight children.

Eight shields for eight pieces of your heart.


End file.
